


Far Cry from Original

by inSanePlaces



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inSanePlaces/pseuds/inSanePlaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding himself unable to cope back home, and his relationships with his friends and Liza deteriorating, Jason returns to the Rook Islands with the intention of laying his body to rest in the place the old Jason died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to the Islands

The moment my feet touched down on Rook Island sand, I was disquieted. A part of me had been expecting a crowd of mercenaries to attack the boat at any moment as we approached; another part of me was disappointed they hadn't. There was no way of knowing what remained of Hoyt's forces, but I didn't doubt for a moment that someone had eagerly stepped into his shoes to continue the trade and tyranny.

Not that it really mattered, I hadn't come back to wage another war against drug-lords and lunatics. No, I'd come back to settle a score with myself. A part of me had died on this island, minutes after Grant had bled out in my arms, when I'd slide that hunting knife down to the hilt into a mercenaries neck, feeling the blade jar as it came up against bone I remembered staring hand's held out in panic or apology, I can't really remember which, as the man slid to the ground dead.

That had been the moment the Islands had changed me, altered some deep rooted part of my psyche that had, before that moment, vehemently refused to believe in the reality or the need for killing. That door had forever been blown from its hinges with C4, blood and bullets. There was no closing it now.

I'd tried to move on, spending my days shooting with a camera instead of guns, aiming at models instead of mercenaries. I'd proposed to Liza, we'd been engaged, planning to buy a house and have kids... but we were both trying too hard to forget while constantly seeing reminders in each other’s faces.

I'd killed for her, and she'd watched me.

We'd broken it off amicably enough, both us knowing but neither saying the reason. 

She wanted to forget, weld that door shut and stay firmly on the other side, they all did. I remembered making a comment about tigers and mercs one evening while we were all together drinking and watching a movie. It had been a joke, though no one laughed. Liza had coughed loudly, Keith had gone paper white and stammered about having to be somewhere else... they'd receded from me that night and I'd felt like a leper.

' _Therapy’s for faggots_ ’ my old man had said once, when Grant had been on leave and mum had suggested he _talk to someone_. I held by it knowing that admitting I'd run amok on some remote island, killing with guns, knives, explosives and anything else that was close to hand, both sober and high and high as a fucking kite would get me locked up in one place or another.

A part of me had died on this island, the part that was panicked by blood and terrified of pain. The part that had never killed had never wanted or dreamed of killing, the part that could have stayed in California.

“Too late now” I said to myself from where I was sitting on the sandy beach watching the boat I’d come in on disappear into the sunset. 

Standing I brushed my trousers down, they were dark, khaki green and made of canvas, my habit of always choosing bright colours in a bid to stand out well and truly dead after learning the benefits of camouflage and concealment last time.

I wore a dark grey t-shirt, heavy, dark-brown hiking boots and a camera around my neck. I’d deliberately ‘forgotten’ everything else before getting off the boat. It wasn't as if I’d need any of it anymore. 

The camera I’d brought had never worked for as long as I’d had it. Grant had bought it for me at a garage sale when we were kids. I’d treasured it ever since. It was black and grey with a worn brown leather strap and the words ‘Praktica’ emblazoned on the front. It was scratched to _fuck_ , but it had always reminded me of Grant.

I turned looking at the jungle hands still on the camera, before I started into the trees.


	2. Simon Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaas being Vaas

“You like the colour red, huh? Motherfucker! Is that why you’re staring at me, you fucking homo!... Heh, it’s _fine_ though, you wanna know why it’s fine?” asked Vaas grinning at Simon, enjoying the man’s fear filled eyes, even as they began to water.

“Hey!” He slapped him to make sure he was listening, Simon had a habit of going away into his own head, Vaas didn't like it when he did that. “You listening? You _here_ with me?”

Simon nodded franticly, lips straining against the cloth gagging his mouth and cutting into his cheeks. Vaas snorted at the man’s grunts and moans. “You sound like a bitch, hermano, cut it out”.

Simon hadn't liked it in the sand, he’d screamed and shouted and cried and just generally being an ungrateful fucking shit. Vaas had him dug out and strung up on the stage, his wrists bound and supporting his weight by what was usually used as a noose when Vaas felt like watching a classic.

Simon had been fun for a few days now. The first day had been brilliant, Vaas had spent the best part of the day splitting wood and telling Simon _all_ about Jason- _Fucking_ -Brody and how the mother fucker had fucking _stabbed_ him, and then _left_ his Island like it had all been fucking nothing.

He spent the rest of the day shoving thin slivers of wood under Simon’s toenails; he’d tried to kick Vaas, which had no only been plain fucking rude, but had resulted in Vaas getting his men to weigh down Simon’s legs with the corpses of his friends, they’d been dead weight anyway and Vaas figured they may as well be useful dead weight.

He’d had been disappointed when Simon fainted from the pain.

“Simon, Simon, Simon. I had high hopes for you, I _really_ did. I mean you come in shouting and screaming and fucking _threatening_ my men! Now look at you…” Vaas kicked at the man’s exposed legs, already blue and blistering from blows, sunlight and distension. “Fucking broken… you remember what I said?” he asked leaning forward, deliberately resting his hand on Simon’s long-since dislocated shoulder grinning when Simon screamed into his bloodied gag. 

“Come on, you remember, right when we started I said ‘you break when I say you break’… so what’s this?” Vaas gestured to him his tone disapproving. He turned away before whirling around “What the _fuck_ is this! You fucking cock sucker! Not only do you fucking _disobey_ me, you can’t even fucking break properly you useless sack of shit!” Vaas grinned pulling a gun from the back of his combats and shooting Simon’s hands.

The bound-to-tight, grey and splayed fingers exploded in a dark fleshy pulp allowing Simon to fall from his suspension, Vaas didn't flinch as the gore spattered up at him and he walked leisurely to the steps before hoping down them one at a time, all the while humming to himself.

He stood considering the writhing man now laying on the aged and decaying corpses of his friends, crying and sobbing at intervals. He grins and looks up at one of his men, Jose was his name, who still stood on the stage gun at the ready “Heh, he looks like a fish” he said. Jose nods in agreement, but doesn't dare interrupt.

“Hey Simon, you look like a fucking fish!” he says cheerfully to the man. He was getting slower, more sluggish, his screaming was getting quieter.

“For fuck sake, you can’t do anything right can you Simon? It’s okay, is _okay_. I, Vaas, will help you”.

Grabbing the man’s greasy, gore streaked hair, Vaas dragged him from the corpses onto flat ground before turning and stepping over the man and grinning down at him with his feet either side of his head. “I never liked that game, you know, ‘Simon Says’… just never, you know, fit. So, let’s play ‘Vaas Says’”. 

Simon stared blearily up at the madman, aware that being unable to feel his hands and legs was probably bad, but was relieved anyway.

“Vaas Says … fucking, break!"

The last thing Simon would feel in life was the repeated impact of a boot stamping down on his face, and the last thing he would hear would be the combined noise of the madman’s curses, hiw own gargled and blood-distorted screams and the crack of his nose breaking before it was stamped back into his skull rupturing his brain. Simon saw no more.

Vaas kept stamping until Simon’s head was bone splinters, gore and grey matter all matted together with skin and hair.

“… Huh… by the way Jose, these boots are fucking amazing, you mind cleaning this shit up?”

Jose nodded slinging his gun over his shoulder and jumping down from the stage, knowing better that to even think about refusing the sociopath.

“Vaas! Vaas! A boat dropped someone on the island” panted another one of his men.

“Just one?” asked Jose. 

“He had tattoos on his arms…”

“Say that again! I fucking _dare_ you!” snarled Vaas, suddenly a seething mass of psychotic energy. 

The man blanched looking a Jose then back.

“Don’t look at him Carlos! Look at me, I’m the one fucking _talking_ you asshat!” Vaas had aimed his gun at the guard who stiffened. 

“Say it… Say it or I’ll put a fucking _bullet_ in your brain!” he snarled.

“V-Vaas, it was Jason… I swear.”

“Huh…”


	3. Bye Grant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they meet again.

Jason had wondered the jungle for a while, slinking through the trees feeling a detached fondness for the familiar foliage and burnt out vehicles. It’d taken most of the day to arrive where I was now, and I couldn't really think of a better place.

It was the cliff Vaas had thrown me off, bound and weighted; I really should have died that time. Sighing, I shifted sitting down with my legs hanging off the edge, and clasped the camer in both hands looking down at it.

“Figured I didn't really get a chance to say goodbye… man this feels stupid, you’d be laughing your ass off at how much of a sap I'm being” the plastic was cool in my hands and the strap a grounding pressure. 

“Well, it sucks that you died Grant, and it sucks that I died too… been running around all this time, and I didn't even realise I’d died till I stopped running… Technically, I guess I should have died that first time with the fire and that… but, uh, think I preferred this one, so you’ll just have to deal with me being difficult”. 

I slung the camera strap over my head, and looked down at it for a while.

“Bye Grant, see you soon, bro” I let it fall from my fingers. 

I watched the camera flip and turn and ricochet of rocks before it plunked into the water below. I’d been really lucky not to hit my head on those rocks going down that first time.

I stiffened hearing an engine and stood surprised to see Vaas stalking toward me, gun trained, and a shit-eat grin on his face.

“Jason! Hermano, I'm glad to see you. So _fucking_ glad, we’re going to have _so much_ fucking fun!” Seeing Vaas manic, bobbing on the balls of his feet and twitching was something right out of my nightmares, right now though it just seemed sort of apt, so I stood and looked at him expectantly. 

Vaas shifted the gun aside to narrow his gaze at me, his men had flanked him and also had guns trained, he glanced at them before standing at ease gun held loosely.

“Where’s you’re fucking gun? Is this a fucking _joke_? Do you think this is fucking _funny_!” He snarled while gesturing wildly, I never noticed his own men flinch from his gestures before, but then I’ been more concerned with not dying and killing said men.

“Yeah, kinda” I said simply scratching my head.

Vaas hadn't changed much; same red vest top, same dark green combats, same Mohawk, same scar and same intense black eyes. In fact he'd not changed at all aside from the gauze peeking out from his vest shirt and under his necklaces; apparently I did injure him in my drug induced hallucination.

I’d always seen Vaas as being larger than life, almost like a concentrated version of base human nature; I’d never actually noticed I was taller than him.

“You are _pushing_ me Jason, I mean fucking _really_ , you have no idea how much I _want_ to hurt you” pent up fury was practically vibrating in the air around him.

“Go on then” I said spreading my arms, knowing the chasm was behind me. 

He stared at me, dark eyes boring into me. Vaas’ eyes had always freaked me out; I could never tell where the iris began and the pupil ended, it was like his pupils were perpetually blown wide with drugs or madness.

I was surprised when he tossed his gun aside and darted straight at me. I staggered back, and felt my centre of gravity shift as I began to fall back. I had expected him to shoot me, not lurch out after me. A strong hand close like a shackle around my tattooed arm and I slammed against the rock face swearing as the various jagged rocks caught on my clothes and skin.

“Fuck you Vaas, let go!” I snapped lashing out at him with my free hand. He was gripping my arm, sprawled out on the cliff edge, teeth bared and eyes wild like tiger fighting over scraps of meat. I heard scuffling boots and shouts and knew Vaas men had moved to prevent the madman being dragged down with me, even as I caught my feet up on the cliff face and tried to push off away from him.

“No, bad Jason, _Bad_!” he snapped drawing a small handgun from god knows where. A shot rang out, echoing of the cliffs around me, and then pain exploded in my thigh and heat radiated from the source, I was pretty sure it was blood.

“You mother fucker!” I snarled as my leg collapsed, preventing me from pushing against the rocks any more. I lashed out, pleased when I actually managed to hit him, but rather than cause him to drop me it only served to make him grip harder; his fingers seemed to want to make a home in the flesh of my arm. 

When another hand grabbed my arm, I knew it was over, Vaas grinned past the split lip I gave him, a film of red spread across his teeth, “Carlos, you _beautiful_ fucking bastard! Help me get him up!”.

I was dragged up, very much against my will and pinned with a man kneeling on each arm. Vaas looked high from where he stood over me eyes impossibly dark and blood running from his mouth and dripping from his chin, he was all laughter and smiles and friendly comments for his men, who looked pleased themselves if not relieved.

“Ah, Jason, did I ever tell you… the _definition_ … of _insanity_? You should know by now, you _dumb_ fuck, that death just doesn't workout for you!”

I can't say the gun butt coming my way was unexpected.


	4. Well, this sucks.

"Jason? Hey, Jason. Wake up amigo" I came awake to repetitive tapping on my cheek which sent pain sparking up one side of my head.

I squinted at the playfully smiling and deranged face of one Vaas Montenegro, nut-job extraordinaire. I shifted, and knew without looking that my arms were tied down. I was about to launch into a barrage of insults in the hopes of provoking the madman, but a firm finger pressed to my lips halted me before I even started. I glared at Vaas. 

"I have something to say, so shut the fuck up for a moment".

"Fu-" I started before being abruptly cut off when Vaas jammed his forefinger and thumb either side of of my mouth, effectively gagging me on the flesh of my own cheeks.

"The _fuck_ did I just say to you!" Vaas looked ready to beat me bloody, his free hand clenched in a tight fist and poised. The moment it relaxed and the fingers uncurled before Vaas patted my chest, I knew that Vaas wasn't going to play it the way I wanted it. 

"It’s okay" he said carefully gaze fixed and intense on his now relaxed fingers, I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or his hand. His gaze rose and dark eyes fixed on my face. My jaw was aching from where he still gripping my face. 

"It's _okay_ ... all of it… My friend, I _forgive_ you. You know why, because you came back. You came _back_ , Jason. So I'll be the bigger man and let it all go. All those men you killed, all that money you cost me, still a little pissed that you _fucking stabbed_ me!... but we can get back to that another time".

I wasn't sure what was more disturbing.., the fact he kept a level and calm voice through 'most' of that, or the fact he'd said any of it at all, but then, Vaas was unpredictable to the degree that batshit-fucking-crazy just didn't cover it. 

"What I'm interested in, hermano. What I'm interested in, is why the _fuck_ you think you can end it?!" Vaas leaned in close as he shouted making me wince at the volume. I still couldn't make out where the iris began and the pupil ended in his eyes, even this close, but I was absurdly aware of the fact he had really great teeth.

He stood roughly jerking my head away as he let go, I flexed my jaw slowly, wincing at the pain it caused in my head. Vaas stood with his back to me in the center of the room; he was standing under the un-shaded light bulb that illuminated the breeze block walls and tin-roof in dull low-wattage orange light. His shoulders were tensed and I could see the muscles in his arms twitching.

"In my experience" he started, voice deceptively calm and friendly "people try to off themselves for one of two reasons. One, some fucking emotional bullshit, despair and all that crap, and two, because they're shit scared of me" he turned a bright, gleeful smile on me as if I was his buddy and he'd just told me about a new bar we could go drinking in, "That’s why I like to bury the fun ones, no free hands".

"Okay...?" I said mildly, not entirely sure what to make of that.

"You though, Jason, _you_ are not scared of me. So, let's talk about that other shit" he came back and sat on the bed again, bumping my injured thigh as he shifted into a sitting position. He gave me an innocently amused look when I hissed out a cuss word from the pain. He sat with his legs crossed, elbow resting on one knee while he rested his chin on his hand. 

“I’m here for you, hombre”.

If I didn't know from personal experience he was utterly insane, I would have though he was genuine.

"You want to talk?" I asked sounding as incredulous as I felt, even to my own ears.

"What? Is that surprising? Come on, spill you're guts, Jason" he poked my wounded leg.

"Fucker!" 

"Don't be a fucking pussy. It doesn't hurt that much... uh ... is the bullet still in there?” he sounded thoughtful, as if the fact he’d shot me had completely slipped his mind until that moment.

I glared at him as he shifted one leg out straight producing an evil looking hunting knife from his boot and holding it up so I could see, it had dried blood smeared up the blade.

"You want me to cut it out?"

"Not especially, let’s leave it in there and see how long it takes me to get septicaemia... you'd go for that right? Long slow death, gradual decline, pain, misery?" 

I took the opportunity to check my arms; they were restrained with leather straps with thick metal buckles to the side of the bed. It looked disturbingly like the restraints they used for uncooperative patients in hospital.

"You wound me hombre, _truly_ , you really think I'd let you suffer like that?" he was smirking.

"...Are you seriously asking me that? Seriously?"

He rolled his eyes and stood straightening, knife still in his hand. He stretched his back to me, before peering over his shoulder.

"I'll be back later, white boy, don't go anywhere, yeah?" he grinned at me, bouncing on the balls of his feet, before exclaiming "bye-bye!" and leaving the room.

I heard the door close and the lock slide home then lent my head back onto the mattress and exhaled.

"Well, this sucks".


	5. Chapter 5

“You fucking bastard!” howled Jason straining against his restrained arms, and Vaas’ weight where the madman straddled his legs.

“It’s for you own good, hombre, now suck it up and stop squirming” Vaas snapped sounding amused, he didn’t look up from where he was digging around in my leg with a pair of long-nosed pliers.

Each jab and twist was acute agony. 

“Almost got it… Almost… ah crap…” he peered up at me and grinned “slipped”.

“Can’t you just fucking kill me already?” I snapped. 

“It’s all about killing with you now, isn’t it? Got to say Jason, I sorta miss the days when you were a pussy white-boy. We used to talk… try and kill each other, talk again… I mean, there was still the killing and the shooting, but there was the talking too. I used to feel so close to you man, the hell happened to that?”

He shrugged and returned the pliers to my leg.I grunted and groaned straining against the straps.

“Got you, you little mother fucker… for fuck sake Jason, this is fucking tiny, your such a fucking bitch” he was laughing at me, I looked at him blearily seeing him holding a small, distorted metal pellet to the light with bloodied hands. He turned his hand this way and that apparently intrigued by the metal, and then he stood and shoved it into his pocket.

I really didn’t want to know.

“Fuck…” I groaned thickly closing my eyes against a wave of nausea.

“Hey, quit bleeding you pussy” I hissed when Vaas poked my leg again. 

He’d come in what seemed like hours ago grinning like a Cheshire cat, before showing me the pliers he’d brought. Vaas had cut the fabric from my thigh, all the while telling me about some guy named Chris and some recordings they’d made, before shoving the plier points into my leg. I’d screamed and cussed, and he’d shouted at me for interrupting his story.

“Hmm…” Vaas was staring intently at my leg while I adamantly refused to look at it. He stalked over to the door before opening it.

“Hey! Jose, go get the Doc… yes fucking now, what are you? Fucking deaf? Fucking Run! Run! Run!...” he turned back into the room slamming the door.

“He’s a good guy, Jose… little bit slow though” he said conversationally. 

He had my blood smeared on his hands, arms and his shirt. He was still holding the pliers, but tossed them aside abruptly, I heard them clatter on the cement floor. He fumbled at his thigh pockets before producing a cigar and a zippo lighter, I watched him light it, wondering what he had in store.

“Hey, Jason, woo, Jason?” I jerked my head to look up at him, really not wanting to provoke him. He tilted the now lit cigar at me.

“You want some?”

I shook my head dizzily; I’d never really been one for smoking.

“Fine, fine… is your fault I smoke these now anyway, you know” He said taking a drag and blowing the smoke out again. “You burnt my fucking weed fields; you know how long it takes to get those growing again, hombre? Too fucking long”.

The door opened and Vaas looked to it, mild expression gone in an instant, he grinned manically and the man standing at the door clutching a white, plastic case looked terrified. I could relate.

“Doc!” sad Vaas in a cheerful and welcoming voice walking up the man and clapping an arm around his shoulder and steering him further into the room, leaving the guard to close the door.

The man was thin and weedy, wearing a pair of broken glasses with one lenses cracked. He was wearing a shirt stained with mud, blood and god knows what else.

“Jason, this is… uh, what’s your name again?” 

“A-Arnold” stammered the man; he had an unassuming South African accent and a quiet voice.

“Right, Jason, this is Arnold and he’s a doctor… Arnold, this is my hombre Jason, remember I told you about him? What can you do with that?” Vaas gestured to my leg and I habitually looked, then wished I hadn’t. Seeing an open wound in your own flesh with the muscles laid bare and skin flayed was horrifying on an instinctual level, I jammed my eyes shut against the bile in my throat

“…S-s-stitches?” came the man’s terrified voice.

“Yeah? Anything else?” Vaas was smirking, blowing smoke up into the air and gazing at it.

“Um, it’ll need to be c-cleaned, and uh, antibiotics…?” the man sounded so hesitant and nervous, not really surprising given his situation though.

“Okay… you clean and stitch it then, I’ll be back soon”.

Vaas went to the door, but halted before opening it, his hand on the handle, I saw the man stiffen, eyes wide and wet-looking.

“Oh yeah… if he dies, Arnold, or you undo those strap, I’ll mute you, then fucking _make_ you wish you could fucking scream, understand?”

The man was shaking and whimpered “I-I understand”.

“Good, that’s good, Arnold, see I knew you were smart… do cross-stitch, yeah?”


	6. Chapter 6

The man wasted no time kneeling on the floor beside the bed. I watched as he opened the box he had with him. It was filled with medical supplies.

“I-I don’t have anything for the pain” he said worriedly. He was frightened, still shaking as he prepared is supplies.

“I just had that fucking lunatic digging around in there with pliers, I think I can handle it” he didn’t comment on my voice shaking, but closed his eyes on the horror dawning on his face.

“H-he’s been talking to me…” he said keeping his eyes fixed on the fluid and gauze he was preparing for cleaning the wound. I laid back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Guy never stops fucking talking” I muttered before flinching at the cool liquid running into the wound, and gentle dabs of the gauze.

“He, uh… asked me about you”.

“Not sure I want to know” I said tightly, trying not to let my pain show and distress the panicked man further. I really wanted him to stop shaking before he got to stitching.

“He wanted to know how Stockholm syndrome works” said the man after a pause. I blinked at the ceiling.

“What?”

“…Vaas, he wanted to know how to cause Stockholm syndrome… He was, uh, very insistent”. 

I flinched again as the pressure increased against the wound. Well, wasn’t that disturbing on a whole new level.

“What did you tell him?” 

“…I told him the truth…” the man said apologetically. 

I blinked not really understanding, I had an idea what it was, but not much beyond that, when I looked at him he must’ve seen my question in my expression because he swallowed and continued.

“…It’s not so much causes as criteria… and even then it’s not certain...” his voice wavered.

The door slammed open, and Arnold actually yelped, jumping and I heard something metal drop on the floor. “Guys! Miss me?” I closed my eyes against the cheerful accented voice.

“V-Vaas” stammered the man, sounding like he wanted to cry. 

“Jason, my friend, I got you a present” I shot him a glare, but he just smiled and held up a medical vial. There was clear fluid in it; he peered down at Arnold who was scrambling about with his supplies.

“You got a needle for this Doc?” he asked holding the vial out to him. Arnold hesitantly took it, though he looked as though he thought Vaas was going to cut his hand off and eat it.

The man peered through his glasses at the vial, before sparing me a glance.

“M-morphine” he said.

“I am so fucking nice, right?” asked Vaas sounded pleased with himself. 

It wasn’t a good idea for me to leave it to Arnold to answer, the poor man looked ready to piss himself, and rather than risk Vaas having a rage episode because no one answered I bit the bullet.

“Yeah, sure, right” I said tiredly, but without sarcasm, Vaas flashed me a mad smile. 

Arnold had prepped a small syringe with shaking hands, but as he shifted to administer it, Vaas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The man went white staring at me wide eyed, but thankfully, Vaas simply plucked the needle from him before turning to me.

I can honestly say Vaas coming towards me with a syringe was equally as intimidating as him pointing a cocked gun at me. He leaned close peering at my arm; I flinched when he gripped my arm tightly above the elbow, holding it a few moments before plunging the needle into my flesh without hesitation. I watched the plunger go down before he pulled the needle out. He patted my cheek.

“No daggers for you, hombre, last time was not fucking fun for me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Coming awake feeling as though your bladder was going to burst and having no way to relieve it was not only frustrating but also humiliating. I’d struggled fruitlessly through the last dregs of morphine in my system in a vain attempt to free myself. 

It was stupid really, I knew they weren’t going to give.

I took some time to look at my leg, trying to distract myself from my situation. There was blood on the mattress and smeared around my legs and torn trousers, but the area around the injury was clean and, covered with tightly wrapped white gauze. The constant, dull ache was tolerable.

“Fuck!” I snapped jerked my head back onto the mattress with frustration. I glared at the door, wondering if Vaas would have seen fit to post a guard. Then I wondered what would be worse, pissing myself or calling for a guard. I was saved having to make the decision when the door banged open and Vaas himself stalked in, slamming the door on a guard in the hall way. Vaas was seething, I could tell from the way he was walking, shoulders hunched, eyes intense and mouth in a flat line. 

Apparently he’d stormed into my cell simply for the sake of pacing. He stalked from one corner to another, and I watched, unsure if it was safe to speak, though my bladder wouldn’t hold out much longer.

The madman turned and fixed me with a stare, dark eyes intense and severe.

“Jason” he spoke mildly “is you’re _fucking_ crazy spreading?” he demanded stalking over “what the _fuck_ did you say to Arnold!?”

His fist slammed into the wall above my head and he leaned over me, glaring down at me.

“Uh… not much…?” I said uncertainly. His eyes narrowed.

“Tell me exactly”.

“Uh…” I hesitated wondering if I would be putting Arnold in danger. 

“Did you not understand? Was the question to fucking _difficult_ for you?!”

He struck me, jerking my head to the side and sending pain radiating from the point of impact before one of his hands went to my throat. I stared up into rage clouded eyes, and bared teeth in an animistic grimace as my windpipe was forced close everything seem to slow down.

He was shouting in my face, I could feel spittle hitting my skin, and my neck was burned with the friction of his clenching hand. A knee had come up and planted itself firmly on my chest compressing, and forcing air from my lungs.

I should have been struggling, but beyond involuntary motions caused by asphyxiation I didn’t bother. I closed my eyes against the darkening edges of my vision and went limp, if Vaas was _finally_ going to oblige me, who was I to argue, especially if it was going to be so quick…

…dry lips moved from mine as my chest expanded and sucked air in of its own accord. The sensation of my windpipe expanding reluctantly and air being drawn in faster than my body could compensate for resulted in a violent, and painful coughing fit.

“Breathing? You’re breathing?” panted Vaas, wide eyed and staring as I continued to cough and rasp air in before I stared at the ceiling.

“You scared the _shit_ out of me, you dick-head!” Vaas scowled, slapping me upside the head, then smirked “you pissed yourself by the way”.

“Oh _fuck_ off; you’re the one who left me tied up in here!” I croaked, becoming acutely, and uncomfortably aware of the dampness around my crotch and legs. Ah, and there comes the shame and embarrassment, _lovely_.

“Yeah, been thinking about that, hombre” Vaas shifted, sitting next to the bed on my right side with his back to the wall and his legs crossed. I watched dazedly as he produced what looked like a joint and sparked it up with the zippo I’d seen him use before.

“You not going to ask me?” he asked looking at me with a measuring gaze.

“About Arnold?” 

“That sack of shit offed himself with the rest of that fucking morphine… wasn’t done with him yet, pretty pissed about it”. 

He inhaled deeply before blowing the smoke upwards toward the light. I watched it curl and twist in the air as it rose, wondering vaguley if Vaas was more or less twisted, before mentally scoffing at myself, of course it was the latter.

“No, I want you to ask me about keeping you locked up, it’s getting _boring_. Come on, come on, _ask me_ ” he looked at me grinning playfully.

I sighed.

“How long are you going to keep me locked up?” I asked flatly.

“I’m not” he blew smoke again, insane grin splitting his face.

“…So you’re going to kill me?” I asked hopefully. 

He actually rolled his eyes.

“You’re really fucking unimaginative if those are the only two options you can think of. Come on, _think_! We both know your weak points, though I guess you’re probably underestimating the fucking trouble I’ll go through, _just for you_ , Jason”.

He shifted onto his knees and reached out with the joint.

“Have some of this, might change your fucking perspective” he watched me hesitate. “Do it or I’ll fucking _burn_ you” he hissed impatiently. I winced at the thought of cigarette burns before leaning up and sucking on it. 

Immediately I starting coughing, my already abused lungs rebelling at the inhaled smoke, he snorted and laugh out loud

“Don’t choke on it, asshat, s’good stuff. Will blow your box _wide-fucking-open_ ” despite his words he was amused.

He sat back and twisted so his back was no longer on the wall and he was sitting gazing at me. I blinked rapidly at the odd sensation in the back of my head, and wondered _why on earth_ I thought anything Vaas was smoking would just have weed or tobacco in it. 

Vaas grinned and put the joint in his mouth before leaning to one side and pulling out a wad of folded paper from his back pocket. I eyed it warily. He unfolded it placing it on the floor out of my line of sight. He seemed to be trying to straighten out the creased.

“You, Jason, have one _gigantic, bright-fucking-red_ target painted right over your chest.... Before I’d have shoved my hand straight in and ripped your heart out” he paused to look at me and smile before taking out his joint and holding it out again. I gave him a _‘really?’_ look and he stared back. I sucked on it again, this time more carefully. 

“Good” he praised looking back down at the paper. I felt oddly detached and relaxed.

He put the joint out on the floor before holding up the paper, turning it around. 

My world narrowed. 

It was a black and white photograph that had been printed. It was creased from being folded and it had smudge marks, but it was unmistakably Riley. He was on his bike, riding leisurely beside a girl I didn’t know who walked beside him holding her books and smiling at him.

“Hey, hey, calm down” Vaas had shifted and placed a hand on my chest looking earnestly into my eyes. I hadn’t realised I’d started to hyperventilate. 

I jerked against the restrains, but Vaas ignored it. I desperately wanted to shout and scream and beat the living shit out of the lunatic, but the drug in my system, whatever it was, was making it difficult to maintain my focus or anger.

“Jason” said Vaas firmly, before grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him “ _Jason!_ ” he repeated until I focused. “You’re _overreacting_ , man”. 

“What have you _done_?” I growled out.

“I haven’t done _anything_ … nothing at all, hombre. Even if I had, it’d be _your fault_ ” he patted my cheek smiling again before leaning back.

“I mean, you’re the one ready to end it, _tell me_ , did you _even think_ about you little brother at all? No? That's cold Jason... Bet you’re thinking about him now, though” his tone of voice was disturbingly sympathetic.

“The fuck was in that joint?” I asked abruptly, before berating myself mentally.

“Rakyat weed and something you wouldn't even know the name of, white boy … let’s stay on point, yeah? Fucking light-weight." he dropped his had and the picture that had held me staring was gone, leaving me glaring at Vaas' amused expression.

"See, my friend, people like us are everywhere, and some are better _adjusted_. They can cope with all the _bullshit_ , not for me personally, pretty fucking happy on my island, thanks. Point is, I got a guy who’s keeping tabs on Riley, keep the kid out of trouble. On the _straight and fucking narrow_ , you should be thanking me, hombre” he flashed me a switch-blade smile.

“What the _fuck_ is this Vaas?” I demanded, trying to keep myself centred, and probably failing utterly. I was too relaxed, too calm; I couldn’t even be pissed off at Vaas properly.

“Leverage, not usually my style, but what can I say? You _inspire_ me to try new things. I’m doing this for you, Jason, it’s like _therapy_ yeah?”

I burst out laughing; Vaas actually started and stared at me with a surprised expression, while I tried desperately to stop. 

“…Shut up” he said flatly. The dead, cold tone in his voice literally drained the laughter from me. 

“If you leave, I’ll get lonely, so _naturally_ , I’ll have to get someone to replace you, who better than your little brother? You know what else?” he asked.

When I didn't answer he ploughed on, gaze intense and lips twisted in satisfaction.

“My friend, who took this picture, if he doesn’t hear from me every ten days, he’ll put a _fucking bullet_ in Riley’s _pretty little head_ ”.

I clenched my teeth, knowing beyond all doubt that Vaas had tied me too him more securely than any chain or rope could. I couldn’t kill myself knowing I’d be leaving Riley at the _non-existent-mercy_ of Vaas, and I couldn’t kill Vaas knowing Riley would be killed before I could get back to him and kill the _bastard_ that had a gun trained on him.

“You understand?” Vaas asked finally sounding pleased.

“ _Yes_ ” I hissed through my teeth.

“Good, that’s _good_ Jason” he shifted closer and I was surprised when he undid the straps restraining me before standing. “Now get up, you fucking _stink_ , it’s embarrassing”.


	8. Chapter 8

I stood in the ocean, naked. 

I cleaned myself hastily, aware my face was probably still flaming. Vaas had dragged me from the cell and through the camp, finding great humour in making a big show of the fact I’d _pissed myself_ before he’d stopped at a shack and thrown some clothes at me telling me which way the ocean was.

I’d limped to the beach and dropped the clothes onto the sand before I’d thrown up violently, probably from a combination of whatever he'd spiked the joint with and the morphine, before stripping out of my filthy clothes and staggering to the ocean.

There was no way out of the situation. 

Tugging at the gauze around my leg, soaked and weighted with water, it came away from my leg and floated away, the wound stung but I ignored it.

Vaas was obsessed with me, as _fucked up_ as that was there was no getting away from it, with what Arnold had told me and the way Vaas had been acting, and the lengths he’d gone to for my compliance made it clear the lunatic had no intention of letting me go. 

It was a possibility he was bluffing, but I couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ take that risk. I’d betrayed Riley once, my stomach twisted recalling the sensation of pushing my thumb into the open bullet wound. Feeling the wet, pulsing heat as clotted blood was torn and fresh oozed around my thumb. I swallowed thickly remembering the feel of the dead, cold metal of the bullet on the end of my thumb when it was in past the knuckle.

I would _never_ put him in a situation like that again.

Vaas _knew_ I'd protect my brother, no matter the cost, he was crazy, completely and utterly, but there was no disputing the fact he was intelligent and manipulative as well as violent and aggressive. 

I could run, Vaas had only said I couldn’t kill myself and I couldn’t kill him, he hadn’t said I had to stay at the camp… but then, what if he was attacked? It didn’t matter what prevented Vaas from contacting his ‘ _friend_ ’ Riley would die as a result. 

I had to _fucking protect_ Vaas… and the bastard had _deliberately_ left out the condition that I had to stay near him, _knowing_ that I’d consider running before realizing I couldn’t with their being a possibility of putting Riley at risk.

“ _Bastard!_ ” I breathed closing my eyes and exhaling hard. My chest sparked with pain from my earlier brush with death. Shaking my head I turned and headed back to the beach.

Dressed in black combats and what was creepily like one of Vaas’ red vest tops, I sat on the sand and laced up my boots. I’d had some trouble getting the trousers on with my injured leg, but the stitches had held… I didn’t know if it was due to Arnold’s skill or the cross stitch sealing the wound, well, maybe it was both.

I sat back looking out over the ocean as the sun was setting.

“Hey! Jason!” I jumped at the unfamiliar voice and looked behind me. It was one of Vaas’ men, I recognized him as one of the men who stood outside of my cell. He froze when our gazes locked, he had sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He looked Hispanic.

“Vaas wanted to know where you are…” he swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, he was holding a gun in his hand but hadn’t pointed it at me. I tilted my head.

He was _scared_ of me.

“Right where he said” I said flatly, watching the man’s reactions. He was bigger than me, heavier built and taller, no that it mattered, Vaas was smaller than both of us but he could over power me and probably the large man standing near me.

“…He, uh, wants you to head back, said something about, uh, tigers being out this late”

Now that was interesting. Vaas had let me come alone knowing I would realise I had to go back, yet he’d still sent a guard to summon me. Turned out the lunatic wasn’t as sure of things as he made out. Not sure how to use that to my advantage at this stage, I filed it away and stood. The man flinched, and I paused, not really wanting to spook the guy, he did have a gun.

“Uh, this way” he said stepping back and gesturing with the gun. He didn’t want me walking behind him. I walked passed him and started back to the camp. After Vaas’ humiliation I’d expected to be mocked by his men, instead my presence seemed to put them on edge. Walking through the camp, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle stiffening shoulders and shifting grips on guns. 

The lunatic himself was sitting outside a building on a sheltered porch with his boots up on a table. He was unarmed and had a bottle in one hand. He looked pleased as I approached; I halted noticing the guard walk away from me. He headed to the wooden cages I could see through some more shacks at the other side of the camp.

“Jason, man, come up here” Vaas called, like I was his buddy or something. I forced myself to comply, climbing on the steps and standing, looking at the lounging psychopath warily. He gestured at me with the bottle.

“Looks good on you” he said casually.

I decided not to comment he stood fluidly and walked over to the door of the shack before kicking it open, and gesturing me to follow. After a few moments debating with myself I did as instructed.

Looking around I was surprised that the building appeared lived in, and if the arsenal of guns and knives mounted on one of the walls was any indication, this was where Vaas slept. For the lair of the beast, it was ‘ _mostly_ ’ normal. The floor was wooden, and like the building I’d been held in the walls were breeze-block and the roof tin. Vaas had several shelves and tables with odd items on them, as if on display; I felt a little thrill of discomfort noticing one shelf: It had my old phone, the knife I’d stabbed Vaas with and the bullet he’d ripped out of my leg recently.

Well, that was creepy, but I couldn't help but think the fact there were too beds in the shack was more so. Vaas had sat on the one under the wall of weapons and peered down at the bottle he held between his two hands while his elbows rested on his knees.

“Close the fucking door!” he snapped suddenly shooting me a glare. 

I turned and did so, wondering if I was going to become his errand boy, as I dutifully shut out the world.

“So, what now?” I asked turning around and leaning on the door, folding my arms to prevent myself from nervously flexing my hands. Vaas looked at me from hooded eyes and tilted his head as if considering me.

“That’s your bunk” he said simply glancing at the other bed. It was on the opposite side of the room, but the fact it was in the same room as a madman equipped with a wall of weapons was worrying.

“Problem? Does that fucking _upset_ your rich-boy sensibilities?” he said with narrowed eyes.

I shook my head warily, not daring to look away from him; I couldn’t let him strangle me again, not if I was going to keep Riley safe.

“What’s that? Cat got your _fucking_ tongue?”

“It’s fine” I snapped back. 

He smirked at me with a savage smile before knocking back the rest of his drink, gaze still boring into me past the upturned bottle. I sneered, then, just to prove a point stalked over to the bunk and sat down heavily.

“If you snore, I’ll put scorpions in your bed” he said thoughtfully.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This scene wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

Jason doesn’t snore at all; he was quiet, almost silent. 

In fact, he was so quiet, Vaas had to get up, wearing only his dark green boxers, and check that he was still breathing. After which he sat cross legged and bare-foot beside Jason’s bed and stared at the sleeping man with drug-ringed eyes, one hand absently fingering the scars on his own chest. 

“You look like shit, amigo” Vaas informed the sleeping man, gaze drifting from the bruise on his face, to those on his neck. 

Jason was also still very pale from the bullet wound and blood loss. He had yet to give the younger man the antibiotics the dearly-departed-doctor-Arnold had recommended. 

“You’re that much of a dick you’d let yourself get an infection just to fucking _spite_ me… well, you’ll be taking meds tomorrow Jason, even If I have to fucking _shove_ them down your throat. Wouldn’t _like_ that would you, hombre? Being _pinned_ down, could see how much it _pissed_ you off in that cell…”

He watched the rise and fall of Jason’s breathing, counting the seconds between each breath and tilted his head noticing his eyes flickering under his eye lids.

“You dreaming Jason? That joint had some good shit in it, makes for some _wacky_ dreams though, man. Seen some people wake up and scream themselves mute from it…” Vaas had taken great satisfaction earlier, in watching Jason’s pupils blow as he struggled with the drug induced calm-lethargy, and the fear and rage he’d shown when he realised Vaas held the metaphorical knife above his brother’s head.Jason shifted slightly, hand moving from his side to rest beside his head sluggishly.

“Yeah? Is there _blood_? Sex?”

There was no answer, but Vaas didn’t get mad, he smiled fondly instead, watching the younger man’s muscles tense. He was still wearing the clothes Vaas had given him earlier, too much of a prissy white-boy to strip down. 

The twitching tension across his arms and neck were unmistakable. 

“Nightmares then? … Tell me, hombre, am _I_ in there? Am I _inside_ your head? If I _peeled it off_ would I be under your fucking _skin_?” he shifted kneeling beside the bed and leaning over the sleeping man, whose relaxed expression had become pinched, and wincing at intervals as his eyes flickered wildly under their lids. 

Vaas grinned seeing sweat beginning to bead on his skin.

“I don’t have nightmares… you know, I don’t think I have since I was a kid… it’s just dark, like I’m dead. Is that what it’s like when _'you'_ die, Jason?"

Vaas leaned back avoiding Jason’s arm as it moved back to his side, this time with more force, as if he were just starting to struggle in his sleep.

“That’s right Jason; _do not_ go fucking gentle into that into that good night. _Hear_ me, hombre? If you do, if you _fucking dare_ , I’ll come find you. I’ll come _find you_ Jason, and I’ll _drag_ you back into the fucking light, then I’ll fucking _flay_ you, I’ll bury myself under your skin _so deep_ , hermano, so _fucking_ deep that when you close your eyes at night I’m _all you’ll ever fucking see_ …”

Vaas flinched back when Jason jerked in his sleep, shifting wildly to roll over, and managing to cuff the madman’s shoulder in his sleep-clumsy movements.

Vaas stared as Jason settled again, and then snorted a quiet laugh before standing and leaning over Jason’s bed and tracing two fingers delicately over the bruises on his neck, feeling the panicked racing of his pulse and smearing the cold sweat on his skin.

“Mother fucker… it’s _good_ you came back, Jason, because I think I would have come after you if you hadn’t” he said softly before settling back into his cross-legged position, resting one elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, content to resume his vigil.


	10. Scavenger Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaas is playing games again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, I'm writing this for my own amusement, but I'd be lying if you guys weren't a motivator. :)

I'd always really enjoyed that place between sleep and waking where you're body is all warm and relaxed and your mind is all fuzzy, it was an odd state to be in. It was almost like forgetting the world outside, as if that had been the real dream. Then some brief flitting recollection of life will send it all to shit.

Jerking awake my gaze tore around the cabin, my heart surging in my chest and muscles tensing in flight or fight response.

Vaas' bed was empty.

Though, apparently he'd seen fit to leave his large, bloodied hunting knife embedded in the side table near my head. Huh, Vaas must've stood there for ages working the knife into the table without making enough sound to wake me, and the fact he was willing to do that just to mess with me was unsettling... also the fact I'd managed to sleep like the dead not more than ten foot away from a sociopath was pretty unsettling too.

I shifted until I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my feet planted on the floor, my thigh ached dully, but I ignored it in favour of lacing up my boots. Exhaling I looked at the knife standing to attention, _mocking_ me.

"Bastard" I muttered to myself before standing and stretching, it seemed as though Vaas was turning me loose on the camp, any number of reasons ran through my head; he could be testing me again, like when he'd directed me to the beach, it could have made him confident enough to risk giving me free reign. 

I walked to the door, eyeing it warily for traps or tricks, before opening it and stepping out.

I blinked.

The guard blinked back.

Apparently Vaas wasn't turning me loose... I wouldn't put it past him to put me in a situation to make me think that, though. The fact I was trying so hard to discern the motivations and actions of a _madman_ probably meant I was losing it myself... and was possibly what he was aiming for anyway.

"Where's Vaas?" I asked bluntly, wondering if this guard would be as intimidated by me as the other one had. He had dark skin and hair, though his eyes were a light hazel that looked almost amber in contrast to his skin and hair. He was sitting on the chair Vaas had been on yesterday.

"He told me not to tell you" his accent was heavy, but the dry tone was unmistakable.

"Right..." I said eyeing him warily.

He stood, keeping an eye on me as he did, less frightened but certainly as alert as the guard who'd come to the beach. He was armed, though he wasn't holding it, instead leaving it hanging from the strap over his chest he gazed at me expectantly with folded arms, but did nothing else.

Stepping further out and closing the door, I glanced around listening for screams. There weren't any. No gun shots either so there was no telling where the lunatic had run off to. I gritted my teeth in annoyance, he was banking on the fact I'd want to keep him in my sights. He had made it clear if he died my brother would too as a result, and now I had to find him... and he was making it deliberately difficult, like some kind of sick head game...

I sighed in resignation knowing that was _exactly_ what it was, and the only choice I had was whether I wanted to amuse him and play along, or piss him off and ignore it. I rubbed my neck thoughtfully, feeling the skin flash with pain from the bruises. It would probably be better to keep on his good side until I'd healed up. 

"Any clues?" I asked unenthusiastically.

The guard arched an eyebrow looking faintly amused, right that was typical; even Vaas' men would get a kick out of me playing along.

"Beach" was all the man said nodding his head in the direction of the beach I'd gone to yesterday.

I turned and started in that direction, aware the guard was following me several steps behind. So he was my 'minder' just along to keep an eye on me. 

Interesting.

My leg wasn't as bad this morning, I could walk without limping, but I was fairly confident it wouldn't last more than a few hours. The beach was much the same as it had been the day before; almost-white sand, stark blue ocean, sun bearing down. The only additions were the sandy foot prints surrounding what was the back of some poor bastards head. I closed my eyes, knowing this was going to get way worse before it got better. I trudged over to the prisoner; the guard had halted and sat on the sand cross legged, apparently happy to observe from a distance.

It was a man's head. Thin, greying black hair exposed the top of hishead burned and cracked from exposure to the sun. He looked up at me with dull, blood shot grey eyes, and something like relief filled his face. He had a split lip and bruises on his face, so he'd probably been subject to Vaas' _special_ attentions. 

He had said he liked to bury the fun ones.

"Vaas put you there?" I asked, kneeling down beside him.

The man nodded. I tilted my head, his cheeks were bulging slightly and his lips were pressed together; he had something in his mouth. He was gazing at me intently, almost like I was his whole world. I shifted looking away, uncomfortable. He should be screaming, yelling at me to get him loose, but instead he was playing Vaas' game. Maybe he'd offered to let him go if he did? I doubted very much that Vaas had let anyone go after sinking his teeth into them.

He'd let me go just so he could chase me down again a lifetime ago, back then I don't think either us foresaw the present, I know if I had I'd have made double sure to put a bullet in his fucking head while sober.

"...You got something in your mouth?" The man rolled his eyes and nodded. 

"For me?"

He stared at me like he wanted to tell me I was an idiot. Okay, so sand-man was a bit of a dick, I could deal with that.

"You gunna let me have it?" he shook his head glaring. I saw his jaws tense and knew he'd tightened his hold protectively over whatever was in his mouth. 

"Did Vaas threaten to kill you if you if you did?"

He stared at me pointedly.

"What? He said I would kill you if you did?"

The man rolled his eyes in obvious annoyance before glaring. 

"...Did he promise to let you go if you didn't give it to me?"

He shook his head emphatically. 

"Am I supposed to free you?"

He snorted and looks pointedly at the guard, who waved with a hand gun I'd not seem him produce. That strongly suggested the guard would shoot one or both of us if I tried to dig the man out, and there was no way I'd get him free before the guard fired the shot, and the distance he was away from me made it impossible for me to tackle him and get the gun.

I stared at the sand-man and he stared back. I really didn’t like where this was going.

"Am I supposed to kill you?"

He nodded looking relieved. Then it clicked, for all the man's animated head shacking, and expressive eyes. He was broken. Vaas had destroyed any illusions of escape or hope then offered the man the only escape left open to him. Though, Vaas would probably kill him if he failed, actually he'd probably just leave the man in the sand to die slowly from exposure, while visiting for his own amusement.

Vaas really was a sick fuck.

The man was staring at me, grey eyes intense and focused. I got up and walked down to the serf, the man grunted urgently behind as I did so, but I ignored him. It should have been a hard choice, I should be agonizing over the death of an innocent man at my hands, but I wasn't. It was easy, kill a man that wants to die, put him out of his misery, save him from the long slow death looming on the horizon. Kill him and ensure my brothers safety.

It was easy. Vaas had made sure it would be, he knew under what conditions I would kill an innocent man, and to prove it undeniably, he'd put it into practice. He'd probably been in the process of preparing the man while I'd been in that god-forsaken little cell. 

I'd met Vaas when he was in a rage, and I'd met him when he was _out of his fucking mind_ , I'd not met this Vaas before, I'd know he was smart, you can't use some of the words he does and not have smarts. They say 'there's a fine line between brilliance and madness' and I was beginning to suspect Vaas walked along it like a man trying to walk straight on two bottles of Jack.


	11. Vaas is considerate ... sort of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaas is nuts, his concept of being considerate is... well... unique.

Vaas had left a knife.

I was sitting glaring at the surf; it was a foot or so away and had gradually been clawing its way up the beach toward me. I had to kill the sand man; that much was obvious. It was 'how' that was bothering me. Vaas had deliberately left his knife; he’d defiantly left it to mess with me, only in more ways than I'd first thought.

The knife would make it simple; shove the man's head down and slide it straight through the arteries in the side of his neck. Grant had told me one night, while we'd been drinking and watching old action movies that they always slit-throats wrong in them. Jerking the head back thrusts the larynx forward making it more likely you'd cut up the victims voice box than slit-their throat effectively. Though I knew from experience if you kept hacking away at it, or just cut right back to the spine you'd get there eventually anyway. 

I'd been creeped out at the time; funny how those things stick with you end up being useful one day.

The point was, the knife would make it quick and clean, but it would also be like I was conceding. Vaas had controlled _every_ aspect of the situation, backed me into a corner with only one way out. The knife was the only way I could kick and scream and make sure he didn't get _everything_ his own way.

Then of course, there's the guilt, because if I have to kill the man, I should at least make it as quick and painless as possible and not let my pride get in the way, Vaas probably knew that too, bastard. 

Flopping back on the sand I squinted passed the sunlight at the bright blue sky above. I remembered falling through it, when all I had to worry about was convincing my mum to pay-out for the newest Nikon and Grant going back when his leave time was over. It was impossible to go back to that, it was like growing up, it only worked one way.

I sighed and climbed to my feet before stalking back to camp. Ignoring the guard who scrambled to his feet as I approached, I walked straight past him heading back to Vaas' shack. 

It seemed only moments before I was standing behind the man, knife in hand, the sand had muffled my footfalls so he hadn't heard me. The top of his burnt and balding head was still tilted forward in resigned defeat. 

Walking forward I crouched down jerking the man's head forward. He screamed in his throat from the contact of my hand on his burnt head, and I tried not to think about the dry, cracked skin and sticky, tackiness under my fingers before shoving the knife into the side of his neck. It sank in under the chin and off to one side. I felt it slide through muscle and arteries before it caught on the larynx.

I stared at the sand ahead of him as he gurgled a scream and blood spattered across the sand, instantly receding into the tiny grains leaving behind small, damp and stained pits. His head went slack and I leaned back pulling the knife out, there were a few sluggish spurts of red before the blood slowed to a crawl creating a small mote around the man’s neck. 

One hand felt greasy from contact with burned skin and unwashed hair, the other, the one holding the knife felt cold where the breeze met the slick blood on my skin.

I swallowed thickly and wiped my free hand on my cargo pants, staying down on one knee I stared at the sand for a while. The beach seemed impossibly quiet. With a snarl I shoved the knife blade into the sand; I really didn't want to see the fresh blood on it. 

Finally, I stood and stalked up to the water until my boots splashed in it. I crouched washing my hands, watching the red lift, drift and disperse in the salt water like red ink.

It had been easy, but a small part of me still felt bad, still felt revulsion at killing an innocent, unarmed and restrained man' I was thankful for that, because in my own mind it set me apart from the lunatic who'd orchestrated the whole affair. The guard was standing, lounging on a tree trunk, hand-gun held at the ready, watching me with a disinterested expression.

It was odd he was using a hand-gun in place of the semi-automatic slung around his shoulder, but I had other things to worry about right now. I returned to the corpse. The head hung slack, eyes staring and his mouth parted. Saliva, blood and sand crusted around dead, cracked lips, but where slack muscles had let them part I could see something poking out.

Cringing, I wished I'd remove the object before washing my hands. I pushed my finger into the dead mouth, it was still warm, I angle the object out with a hooked finger and it plopped onto the sand followed by a torrent of blood that had been plugged by the obstruction. Snatching it up I returned to the water to once again wash my hands I also rinsed the object and examined it.

It was a battery wrapped in plastic wrap. A whistle caught my attention and I peered over my shoulder.

The guard grinned at me and tossed something large and rectangular onto the sand near corpses head. It was a walkie-talkie I realised as I jogged to it. Not the kind you get in shops for kids, this was high grade and probably military in origin. 

I hastily un-wrapped the plastic and opened the panel at the back of the device and slotted the battery in. I nearly dropped the damn thing when it crackled to life.

"Look at you all grown up. I'm so fucking _proud_! Had me going for a while there, hombre, wasn't sure you were gunna do it" came Vaas' cheerful voice sounding tinny over the speaker.

"Where the _fuck_ are you?" I snapped holding down the 'talk' button.

"I'm sorry? Are you _angry_? You should be grateful, you selfish mother fucker! I made it so easy for you, so _easy_ , Jason! I even _gave_ you the fucking knife! It could have been a woman, a girl, a little kid crying and fucking screaming. You want that? You fucking _want_ that, Jason? 'Cos I'm telling you, hombre, it could be fucking arranged!"

I paused closing my eyes and taking a breath. Counting to ten seemed pointless with someone like Vaas, but I tried it anyway.

"Hello? You fucking hearing me?" I flinched at a banging, cracking noise, assuming Vaas was smacking the walkie-talkie against something.

"I don't want to play that game again" I said flatly.

"No? Well, _too-fucking-bad_ , because it was a fucking blast for me! Your face was hilarious when you were talking to Mark, he was a smart guy you know? Came in with the Doc, some sort of expedition or some shit".

I stiffened and glanced around, Vaas had been watching the whole time? 

"For fuck sake, if you’re going to be a pussy about it I'll save it for when your being an asshole" he scoffed in annoyance. I frowned, wondering what had prompted him to say that.

"Where are you?" I asked uncertainly.

"If you can figure it out I'll head back, that's what you want right? Gotta make sure I call in a keep little Riley safe?" a shiver ran up my spine, and a sense of impending doom loomed over me like a tsunami. I stared at the ocean wondering if there was any way I could get the situation back under control, hell, I'd settle for tolerable.

"Yeah" I said bluntly, there was no point denying it.

"You're really fucking lucky I like you Jason, _really_ fucking lucky. I could be having _so much fun_ messing with you right now" he sounded wistful.

"What?"

He snorted, and a shot rang out before the head in the sand exploded in a mess of blood, bone and brain matter. I'd staggered aside and wheeled around staring at it. I felt myself sweating and breathing harder. The guard had backed up right to the treeline, he didn't look surprised but he did look a bit wary.

"You like my new toy? It's fucking _awesome_ , hombre, could have blown your head up like a _fucking melon_ with this. You got no idea what it took me to just fucking _watch_... nearly shot at you while you were standing staring at the sea like a fucking moron, was so _boring_. I kept telling myself, though. I kept telling myself 'this is _Jason_ ; he'll come through in the end. He’s just being a stubborn little _bitch_!'"

He'd been gleeful at the beginning of that insane ramble, but at the end his tone had tightened and sounded resentful, it was _not good_ to have a sociopath with a high-power, long-rage rifle aimed at you feeling resentful.

"I was pissed at being manipulated so easily" I grumbled saying the first thing that popped into my head that was likely to placate the madman.

"It's fucking annoying isn't it? Hoyt used to try that shit with me, had to bark and fucking bay like I was his _mutt_... 'course, then you went and killed the bastard and solved that problem for me, I never did thank you for that, did I?"

"Uh..."

"Anyway, who the fuck said it was _easy_? I've been planning this for months, Jason, _months_! And hombre, _you weren't even here_! Was driving me _in-fucking-sane_! I tried it with the rejects, you know, but they always fucked it up. One of ‘em, some ugly bitch tried to bash this guy’s head in with a rock. Ended up with her screaming in fucking hysterics and the guy dribbling and moaning with brain damage... it was funny for about half an hour. Then I showed her how to smash someone’s face in properly..."

Beyond trying to work out the logistics of a madman being capable of going insane, the fact Vaas had been planning his sick little games when I hadn't even been on the island was one I could really could have done without knowing. The implications of various sadistic ideas being turned over and fermented in the dark and twisted recesses of Vaas' mind made my stomach churn.

I grimaced.

"Yeah, didn't think that'd go down well with you white-boy, now, aren't you fucking _glad_ I left my knife?" his voice was madly pleased and expectant. 

There was a pause.

"Aren't you fucking glad, Jason? Because if you aren't, _because if you aren't_ , hombre, we can play this fucking game over again, as many times as you want, only I won’t give you a fucking knife or break the mother fuckers beforehand!" 

My body stiffened and I swear I could feel cross-hairs moving over me.

"Yeah, I'm glad" I said flatly. It pissed me off no end that, yes, now it was over, I was glad to have been able to use the knife, but I'd be damned before I expressed gratitude. Luckily, Vaas didn't seem too great at reading my tone.

"Good, that's really good, Jason. I hate being taken for granted, hombre, it just gets my _fucking back up_ , I mean it's not like I _have_ to do those sorts of things. I could just do _exactly what I wanted_ , but for you Jason, _just-for-you_ I make an exception."

Vaas had a really creepy voice when he wasn't feigning congeniality; his tone was hard and though he spoke with his unmistakable, accented drawl, it carried with the force of a sledge hammer. It also finally nailed home the fact that, yes, Vaas was making allowances for me, and he was handling me with kid gloves as much as he was able to through his psychotic neurosis.

He could have me buried in the sand up to my neck and kick ten shades of shit out of my face, or he could be using me to bait tigers. Instead, he was keeping his distance and playing head games. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or an utterly catastrophic thing.

"You're looking kinda pale there, Jason. You eating alright?" Vaas sounded reproachful, but his playful persona was back in place, so I was out of danger for the moment. I hadn't eaten for what was probably days, but then, I'd had things to think about.

"I guess not" I said neutrally, not wanting to set him off again by openly implying it was his fault.

"Ah, put Raphael on" he ordered sounded preoccupied. I blinked ad looked at the guard. 

"Yeah it's the fucking black guy with gun, moron" he said with a frustrated sigh. The guard eyed me warily as I approached though he hadn't yet pointed the hand gun at me. He stared at me when I held out the walkie-talkie, and after a pause he reached out and took it, though his gaze never left my face as he took it.

"Vaas?" he asked. I heard static crackling and Vaas' tinny voice, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. 

"No problem" said the guard firmly before switching of the device and clipping it to his belt. I watched him click the safety back on the hand-gun before sliding it into the waistband of his trousers.

"I'm supposed to make sure you eat something" he said jerking his head, indicating I was supposed to follow him as he turned back to the camp. My stomach was enthusiastic about this turn of events, though with my jaws clenched in frustration, chewing would be difficult.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, Religion and being nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for those that have been waiting, I get distracted easily. Also, I may have to clean this up later as I'm tired right now and prone to mistakes.

As much as I wanted to throw the food handed to me by the dark skinned mercenary back in his face, I hadn't eaten for days, and after this morning's adventure I really didn't want to provoke Vaas. So I ate, glaring at the guard and him glaring back while I did so. He seemed on edge, more so than earlier and again he had the hand-gun clutched in his hand. 

Why he seemed to favour it over the semi-automatic slung over his shoulder I had no idea. Hand-guns just didn't have the same put-down power as a semi. I mean yeah, you got a good shot off and the target would be down and staying there, but with a semi it was less accuracy and a hell of a lot more bullets. 

"What's with the hand gun?" I asked finally swallowing passed a dry lump of bread. 

Raphael was standing ten foot away, though there were plenty of places to sit, he didn't seem to want to settle to close to me, which was fine, I didn't want him to settle to close to me either. 

"Vaas said I could shoot you with it if you threw a _'fucking hissy fit'_ " he relayed flatly. 

"You a good shot?" I asked innocently, wanting to see how antsy I could get him, I mean, If Vaas would go to such lengths to prevent me killing myself I could only imagine what he'd do if a poorly aimed bullet did it for me. 

"Don't have to be, it's a modded tranq gun" 

Apparently, Raphael didn't scare easily; in fact he seemed amused I was trying. Asshole. It was stupid really, after all the crap Vaas had worked out _'just-for-me'_ why would the guard he chose be any different? He'd chosen Raphael exactly because he wouldn't be set on edge or intimidated by me. 

Great, it just got better and better. 

"What? I don't even warrant real bullets now?" I scowled. 

"You want me to shoot you?" asked Raphael simply, he wasn't being threatening o sarcastic, he was actually asking me. I frowned at him; his amber eyes were focused and intense. I'd have gladly let him put a bullet in my head a few days ago, but today I couldn't indulge the thought of just letting go, I had to stay alive for Riley. 

"Not really, no". 

My voice sounded as apathetic as I felt. 

He hummed and shifted, slowly sitting on a crate, gaze still firmly fixed on me. 

He was a killer, no doubt about that, he worked for Vaas, so it would have been in the job description. I wondered absurdly is mercenaries had resumes, and if being utterly fucking mental was like the equivalent of a degree in Business Studies. I smiled wryly at Raphael, and judging from the slight widening of his eyes and unsettled expression, he didn't get the joke, not that he would, I hadn't said anything. 

He'd blinked, so I wasn't sure if he was still staring or gazing, either way, it was getting annoying. 

It wasn't the 'I-am-going-to-kill-you' or 'please-god-stay-the-fuck-away-from-me' look I was used to from Vaas' man, and it wasn't the insane stare the lunatic himself cast me from time to time. Disturbingly there was nothing hostile in his amber gaze at all; and I wondered, faintly, haw far removed from normal I had come that I found the lack of hostility disturbing. 

"What?" I grunted finally. 

He blinked and shrugged then looked away, turning his head towards some shouts at the other end of the camp. 

"The food drugged or something?" I asked looking down at the food distrustfully. 

He snorted in response, apparently amused by the question. 

"Vaas did think about it... not for long though, seems to think you're more dangerous drugged" he shifted over and used a stick to poke the fire. I watched oddly entranced by the flickering flames. 

"Hasn't stopped him shoving joints down my throat" I said dryly. 

"Heh, that's nothing next to the hard shit, trust me". He snapped the stick and tossed it back in the fire, before his amber gaze lifted and he was looking at me in that creepy, non-hostile way. 

I didn't answer, instead setting the plate aside. His stare dropped to it as I did so. 

"You should eat that" he said simply looking up at me again, amber eyes flickering in the firelight. 

"Yeah well, forgive me if I don't take your concern for my well being too seriously" I snapped, agitated by his comment about the drugs. It hadn't occurred to me with quite that much clarity that Vaas had the means and ability to have me strung out, helpless and unknowing completely dependent on him for a fix. 

It was satisfying to see a flitter of uncertainty cross-the man's face; I'd caught one of his hands twitching on his knee, trigger finger and thumb trying to meet in futile mimicry of firing a gun. Back in California my own; similar twitches had been a constant reminder of the islands. 

I glanced down at my hands absently; they'd been steady since I landed back on Rook, ironic that. I absently flexed them, gaze drawn to the half finger I'd won in a game of poker some time ago. It was strange how losing it had seemed like nothing at the time. 

Sure, it had fucking hurt, but really, it was my left ring finger, and beyond having to learn to grip slightly differently it hadn't made that much of a difference. Most people just used it for wedding rings anyhow and I already knew the stubby nub would lose any band of metal I tried to put on it; I'd had to use medical tape to keep the ring Lisa gave me on. I rubbed over it with the thumb of the same hand feeling the bone close to the skin. 

Scar tissue had made it numb, and it had never registered highly next to everything else I'd lost on the island. 

"Vaas won’t be happy if you don't" Raphael's voice was quieter than it had been and when I looked up at him his amber gaze was fixed on my hands. He looked up after I did. 

"Won't be _happy_? Worrying about him being angry I can understand, but worrying about him being _happy_? You're almost as bad as Citra's fucking fanatics!" I sneered distastefully at the reminder of her. She hadn't been that different from Vaas, not really, she used drugs to control people just as much as he had and I hated her for her hand in changing me. 

"...I _was_ one of those fanatics" came the dry reply. 

I felt my eyebrows rise involuntarily. 

"Uh huh, and what? You thought you'd worship the next best thing? There's something in the water here, must be" the mocking tone and sarcasm were deliberate, though the hysterical laugh that accompanied it got out all on its own. 

He didn't react to my sarcasm for a few moments, just continued to stare in the same non-hostile way he had the whole time we'd been talking. 

"You don't worship an angry God, you appease him" he said. 

It was suddenly very quiet and the hairs on my arms stood on end. Scowling I looked away from him glancing around. Raphael had spoken deadly serious, and that along with his unwavering gaze was making me uncomfortable. Licking dry lips I focused on him again. 

"Appease? Virgin sacrifices and all that shit? _Really_? Is this the dark ages?" 

"I doubt very much that you're a virgin, Brody" he smirked then, realising he'd unnerved me with that last comment. He really was a bastard. 

"Oh _fuck_ off" I'd stood without meaning too, muscles twitching and tensing, my leg was throbbing painfully and judging by the pulling from my trouser leg and sharp twinge of pain it had wept and stuck to the fabric. It was utterly insane, the idea of Citra's followers turning to Vaas after her death and proclaiming him some kind of god. The implications of Vaas having men that followed him out of some sort of crazy religious belief was terrifying. 

His men had been loyal before, but they would run and I'd recognized some of his men working for Hoyt long after I'd thought I'd killed him. So they hadn't been _that_ loyal. Enough drugs and money and most would turn, but the dark skinned man in front of me was different. 

I'd fought along men like him, willing to throw themselves onto the fire and _stay there burning_ for Citra's wishes, and now they followed Vaas. 

Did Vaas know? 

Still standing, and still staring at Raphael whose hand was now gripping the hand gun, safety off, expression set and eyes hard. He was afraid of me, I hadn't thought he was before, but I could see it now. 

I'd assumed Vaas chose Raphael to keep an eye on me because he wasn't frightened and wouldn't be intimidated, no, Vaas had chosen Raphael because no matter what I did the dark skinned man would do whatever he had to in order to carry out Vaas' wishes. He couldn't be bribed, intimidated or threatened and as long as he was on guard and had a gun I couldn't kill him. 

My muscles sagged and I sat down heavily on the crate running my hands over my face in an effort to reign in my scattered thoughts and ignore the constant observation of the mercenary sitting across from me. 

I stiffened as a hand clapped on my shoulder and a machete was against my neck the flat pressed under my chin tilting my head up. Vaas grinned down at me madly, dark eyes wide and over bright, he had blood flecks on his cheek. 

He shifted leaning against my back to peer at my plate then smiled, pleased apparently. 

"You've eaten, that’s _good_ , Jason, you should eat more though" he said, sounding vague and far-away; he'd taken something. 

"Vaas?" Raphael asked. 

Vaas released me before shoving me off the crate and taking my place on it. I glared up at him gritting my teeth against the sharp sting in my leg and he grinned back, with playful eyes and a savage switch-blade smile. 

"Can go hermano, go get laid or something" Vaas waved the dark man off before peering down at me again. His gaze trailed down to my leg when I'd been injured. His gaze went glassy for a few moments then cleared again before his gaze shot back up to my face, I'd stiffened instinctually, not certain how Vaas would act or react in his intoxicated state. 

"Why are you on the floor? S'not good for your leg, Jason, get the fuck up" he seemed slightly irritated, and rather than tell him he'd shoved me onto the floor I clambered up. He leaned forward and jabbed at my leg suddenly. I jerked away hissing and glaring protectively shielding the stitches beneath the combats, he blinked at me blearily as if my reaction was surprising. 

Slowly he turned his head away before peering into the cup the cup the mercenary had given me. 

"Drink this" he ordered bluntly holding it out to me. I peered at the cup cautiously. "Drink it or I'll pin you the _fuck_ down and make you _choke_ on it!" he snapped expression abruptly sharp. I took the cup before resignedly drinking from it, his expression immediately softened to a dazed smile. 

It didn't taste drugged. 

"What’s in it?" I asked having finished it. 

"Nothing, you drank it" he said mildly.

"...Uh, before I drank it?" 

"Water... plants die if you don't water them, needy little fuckers". 

"Absolutely" I agreed, deciding humouring the nut job while he was out of his head was probably the best approach to surviving it. He grinned at me. 

"Yeah, yeah, and the rejects. One's I bury -" he passed waving his hands apparently reiterating the 'no hands' statement he'd said previously with glee. I nodded dutifully. "They're like plants, yeah, they bloom when I shoot the fuckers, s'all red flowers Jason, red fucking flowers, like poppies... you ever chase the dragon?" 

I blinked recalling the phrase 'chase the dragon' from several films. It usually referred to opium. 

"Uh no, not me. Boring white-boy and all that" 

"Want to?" he asked, and I was disturbed by the genuine curiosity, though, I remembered his uncanny ability to emulate attentiveness when I was in the cell and he wanted me to 'spill my guts'. 

"Uh, Not great with drugs, get a little stabby" I said cautiously, hoping to dull his interest by alluding to the last time I'd been high and hallucinated around him, judging by the wince and expression of distaste I'd managed it. 

"Good call, hombre, good _fucking_ call. I was laid up for _weeks_ after that, it fucking sucked" he pouted the gestured at a crate across from him on the other side of the fire "Sit, you’re pissing me off hovering like that". 

Hastily I did as instructed. 

When I turned back I found the madman staring blankly at the fire looking oddly entranced. _Creepy_ was a word that had recently become synonymous with Vaas, watching him stare at the fire looking vacant like a posed dummy reminded me of that like nothing else. 

"So, uh, how's Riley?" I asked, hoping he'd let something slip in his stupor. He looked at me, his head swivelling on his neck like one of those freaky china dolls in horror movies. My skin crawled, and I suddenly felt as though his dark eyes could look under my skin and see everything. 

"You think I'm _stupid_ , Jason? You think I'm _fucking stupid_?" He was on his feet looming over me, expression bleak and eyes enraged, they actually looked like they were alight with the reflection of the fire. 

"You're high, had to try right?" I said mildly, the last time I'd blurted something out to placate him, it had been some random thought, this time I'd just told the truth. I hadn't expected it to make a difference, but the abrupt blank expression followed by him backing up to his crate before sliding back to his seated position had been the result. 

It should have been relived, but for some reason my heart was racing with panic. 

"...High, not fucking _stupid_!" he spat, glaring, but made no further move. I nodded warily. 

He sat glaring at the fire for a while, and I sat, tense and on high alert. He shifted and I tensed as he leant down and pulled a knife from his boot. My mind whited out for a second recognizing it as the knife I'd used that morning to kill a man. Vaas had gone to the beach to retrieve it. 

Oddly though, it was clean. The bright metal was clear. I stared at it, remembering what it looked like smothered in layer of fresh blood. 

"This is my _favourite_ knife, Jason. Now, why do you suppose I let you use it?"

I wanted to tell him it was because he was a sick, psychotic bastard, but that would probably result in said knife being imbedded somewhere on my person, so I took the question seriously. 

"...You like messing with me?" 

"Almost Jason, almost. Thought you were supposed to be smart? Top of your fucking class or some shit? That’s what the _bitch_ told me when I asked her, anyway". 

I scowled knowing he was probably referring to Liza. 

"Different kind of smart". 

"...Yeah, I guess..." he sounded thoughtful and was turning the knife in his hand loosely, so the blade kept flashing red in the firelight. 

He was gradually getting more and more lucid, I realised, becoming more and more himself. 

"What would you have done if I hadn't left it?" he asked tilting his head, and smiling, flashing harp teeth. 

I winced and broke eye contact. 

"Probably strangled him, or broke his neck" I shrugged. 

Vaas snickered. 

"Gone all green there, hombre, keep that foo down, yeah. Not really your style though, is it?" 

"...That why you left it?" 

He snorted. 

"No, that’s because I like you, Jason, and I'm fucking _nice_ ". 

'Nice' really wasn't the word I was use, but nice can be a euphemism for crazy, psychotic bastard. 

"Yeah, you’re nice" I agreed. 


	13. Scorpions and Self Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rude awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just getting back into this after reading some of the awesome fics on here and wanting to get back into writing now my degree is finished. 
> 
> This is just-for-fun and never was planned out from the start and I've not been writing fiction for a while now so try not to be too harsh.
> 
> Also, I'm aware my sentence structure, grammer and stuff need work.
> 
> :-)

“Hey Jason  … Jasooooon” came an accented voice, softly crooning. I squinted opening my eyes and was abruptly wide awake and staring at the hideous visage of a large, black scorpion, pincers waving centimetres in front of my face and legs flailing uselessly in the air.

“Ha! Your face, Jason, oh my _fuck_ , your face!” Vaas sounded gleeful and proceeded to wave the creature from side to side. I flinched back before grabbing his wrist and pushing his arm away. I met his gaze over the creature, and his eyes sparkled with glee and his grin expanded to show teeth.

“…Oops…”

The asshole fucking _dropped_ it on me.

“Fuck!”

I jumped up rapidly and the scorpion fell from my chest to land beside the madman rocking on the floor and cackling madly.

I watched as Vaas picked it up again, grinning broadly at it, ignoring the stinger repeatedly jerking into his hand before he simply crushed the thing into a mess of insect flesh, fluid and exoskeleton.

Weirdly I felt a stab of sympathy for the ruined creature; It had stabbed repeatedly and ineffectually into his arm, desperately struggling and attacking, but it all come to nothing in the end. The moment the lunatic lost interest he’d crushed it with the same expression of mild amusement he’d had while holding it over me.

Oh wait, it wasn’t sympathy it was god damned empathy.

“Not poisonous, white-boy, did you not figure that out last time? Ah probably not, you were probably too busy killing my men, and being a fucking annoying little shit…” he said it mildly from his still seated position, now examining the remnants of the insect on his hand, with child-like intrigue.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, I wouldn’t normally think anything of it. I’d been in enough changing rooms not to bat an eyelid at some skin.

That said, it was different on a fundamental level.

For one the guys at college had always been similarly built to me, and most of them the same height or taller. Vaas was a little shorter and wasn’t ‘heavily’ muscled like a body builder, but looking at his abs and calves his muscles were compact, dense and well defined with practical muscle.

I wondered if it was an inherent trait of the Rakyat, none of them had been huge, but they’d all moved rapidly and efficiently through trees, much like the tigers that also inhabited the island.

None of the guys at college had been covered in a circus of scars like Vaas, some of his scars were just patches of paler skin, others raised distortions. None of Citra’s solder’s had been so heavily scarred, but then, it wasn’t really that surprising with Vaas.

Realising I was eyeballing him in a way that could easily be misinterpreted if he caught me, I hastily moved to pull my shirt, socks and boots on. I’d slept in my pants last night after Vaas had goaded and mocked me into it on the way back to the shack after the traumatic and disturbing conversations with him and his man Raphael.

Honestly, his bullying wasn’t up to his usual standards, and something about the weird mood he’d been in coming down from whatever high he’d been riding last night had set me on edge and I’d not wanted to provoke him too much, it had surprised me he’d seemed satisfied enough to let it go when I’d gone to bed shirtless.

Dark eyes looked up at me, face sinisterly blank for a few beats before he jumped to his feet, tossed the scorpion to the floor and walked past me and through a door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. I sat back to my bunk sitting down and running my hands through my hair and gripping it.

Taking a slow, deep breath I opened my eyes and stared down at the remnants of the scorpion; its body was totally ruined, little legs poking out in insane directions. It was completely unrecognizable as what it had been; a bit like me, just with less of the exoskeleton.

I wondered faintly what awaited me when Vaas grew bored of this game, especially as I already saw the ruined corpse on the floor I was staring at as a metaphor for my current state. Which then inevitably led to me questioning why I even cared, which in turn led me back to those cuddly comforting thoughts of suicide. Then it was just a jumbled emotional battle-royal between shame, guilt, anger and a momentary token input from terror, funny, I thought that little guy had died out a while back along with my moral code and self-respect.

Vaas came back into the room, I heard him moving around, and judging from the sounds of fabric shifting he was dressing, I didn’t move to check, instead continuing my scrutiny of the dead insect.

“Hey, Jason, I can get you another scorpion, you don’t have to cry over it, hombre”.

I looked up at Vaas, he was standing beside his bunk putting on the necklaces and shoulder straps he often wore his gaze on me with a curious tilt to his head, before he turned taking his time to select a knife from his wall of weapons.

“I’m mourning my self-respect, not the _fucking_ scorpion” I said tiredly, wondering if he was going to explode into a rage as he was prone to do.

“The fuck does that even mean? Self-respect?” he sounded scornful, but not angry.

“…Concept of respecting yourself? Dignity?” He shot me what could only be described as disapproving look.

“That’s bullshit, my friend, ‘respect’ isn’t real. Not something you can feel, or destroy, it’s a fucking word used to influence and constrain main-fucking-stream society… pain, fear, despair, loyalty and betrayal.  I’ve lived all that and I’ve fucking _caused_ it. You want me to believe ‘respect’ is real, you fucking show it to me.”

Great, I was getting lectured by the maniac, not only that he was far too lucid and sounding like he was perfectly happy to get into an in-depth, dead ache-inducing debate about it.

“I’ll keep that in mind” I said flatly, if only to get him off the subject and hoping he’d let me.

“You do that” he turned and faced me, he blinked once “You know, I usually have to electrocute people to make their hair look like that”.

“Thanks for that” I said sourly though glad something had’ derailed his train of thought even if it was my stupid hair, he smirked.

“Come on, got a fuck load of stuff to do today” he said going to the door. I didn’t get up and he paused at the door before glaring at me over his shoulder, eyes dark-ringed and slightly pink as if he hadn’t slept.

“ _Jason_!” he snapped, eyes narrowing. I sighed, knowing I had no choice.

“Yeah” I got up and limped after him.

The lunatic was in a good mood in seemed, an excited bounce in his step as he walked ahead of me. We approached a shack I'd not been to before, remaining outside while Vass bound up the steps and hammered on the door exclaiming loudly in Spanish.

The door opened and a Hispanic man with bleach blonde hair and sinister green eyes appeared. I recognized him as Carlos, the one who'd managed to help Vaas drag me from the cliff face. He'd glanced at me for a moment before focusing on the madman positively vibrating with excitement.

"Carlos, my friend!" he exclaimed. The blond looked to Vass impassively but tilted his head in a way that suggested he didn't find his behaviour unsettling. I wondered if Carlos was a little unhinged himself.

"Vaas" he stated flatly.

"Me and white boy are going hunting, you wanna come? Should probably grab Raphael too, not sure where that asshole is this time of day"

Carlos inclined his head.

"No Jose?"

"No, fucking asshat is annoying as shit. 'sides I'm taking some good shit and he'll pull a fucking whitey again". Carlos smirked then as if recalling something particularly amusing.

"Sure thing boss, meet you at the gates?"

Vass nodded, grinning madly before he turned back toward me and jogged. I had to stiffen my muscles against every instinct screaming at me to attack or defend. Though I was somewhat dumbstruck when his hand caught mine, fingers wrapping around the bruises I'd gained when he'd dragged me from the cliff, reminding me they were there before he dragged me along.

"It's going to be fucking _perfect_ Jason, we’ll get a fresh kill or two down, get the blood pumping, hit some good shit then head back later. We get a good time; camp gets fresh meat everyone’s a fucking winner!”

I’d have commented on how not on-board I was, especially with him going out with _only two men_ and intending for everyone to get high. When I’d wanted him dead it would have been like winning the _fucking lottery_ to have stumbled upon him high as a kite with only a few men in the middle of the jungle.

Not only that, but I was still pretty banged up, and had the situation been any different I’d have said so, but it was likely Vaas would go even if he decided I was too much of a ‘ _pussy white-boy_ ’ to go, and I could have him going anywhere without me in case some nut-job with a vendetta was out there gunning for crazy, psychotic bastard.

 

 

 

 


	14. What can go wrong will go wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weak chapter, but this it how it's gunna go

People portray ‘I-told-you-so’ moments as instances to be savored and gloated over.

Personally, I really, really wished I wasn’t having one right this moment largely due to the fact I was in tree about ten foot up with a very large tiger pacing below and no weapons. Luckily it seemed to favour short, Hispanic and blonde over tall, injured and American and in any other situation I’d get a hell of a thrill over sitting in my tree watching one of Vaas’ men cussing and lashing out with a large branch every time the tiger tried to start climbing the tree trunk. Currently, however, I was thinking fast, heart hammering in my chest, pulse and various bruises and healing injuries pulsating with heat in time with it.

I’d been limping someway behind Vaas and Raphael, faintly amused to see how wary the fanatic was despite his freakish devotion, he’d flinch often when Vaas would gesture broadly with his hands or laugh loudly. Vaas had been doing it much more often than usual which made me suspicious he was purposefully fucking with Raphael, though in a far subtler way than I was used to seeing him mess with people.

It was weird.

Carlos was purposefully walking behind me, pace slow and smoking weed if the smell was anything to go by. I’d assumed he was as insane as Vaas when I’d first seen him, no one could appear that mellow and calculating at the same time and be all there… also, bleached blonde hair, if that wasn’t an indication of insanity I wasn’t sure what else was. It hadn’t even registered that he was close to me for any reason other than to make sure I didn’t take off until I stumbled.

I’d frozen, hunched over and staring at Carlos, who’d gone from relaxed and mellow to high-strung, eyes wide and semi-auto pointed straight at me and teeth gritting at the joint in his mouth.

The blonde psycho was walking behind me because he didn’t want me at his back, he was scared of me. I grinned slowly at him, and his eyes narrowed before he spat out his joint.

“Better pick up the pace, Snow. Boss’ll be pissed if he thinks you’re trying to take off” his accent was thick and his tone irritated. I snorted softly and straightened, stretched and rolled my shoulder, enjoying how antsy it was making him.

Then it all went to hell.

There was something weird about the jungle on Rakyat, it was like Murphy’s Law was on angel dust. Not just ‘what can go wrong, will go wrong’ but ‘what can go wrong, will go wrong… _oh, and here are some tigers and bandits just for fucking fun!_ ’.

Seriously, the number of times I’d been sniping outposts down to manageable numbers only to see a tiger come out of fucking nowhere and take out some of my targets, it couldn’t be normal. I mean, they say man-eaters are rare, or at least I remember hearing it somewhere, though I suppose with people like Vaas feeding the tigers it was a little bit like seagulls; you feed those fuckers enough and they get a taste for it, they’ll just take what they want.

  
A tiger came stalking out from the brush at me and the blonde the same moment gun shots rang out up ahead. I’d sprinted into the trees. I wasn’t armed, Vaas had told me only good boys got the good toys and left it at that when he’d caught me eyeing his gun before we set out. I’d expected Carlos to shoot it and be mocked for running, but when I’d climbed into the tree and I’d surprised to see him doing the same across from me, arm bloodied with claw rents; he’d dropped his gun, though I saw he still had his hunting knife.

  
He was cussing loudly, lashing out with his branch to stop the tiger climbing into the tree after him. I could still hear the sounds of a gunfight back on the road. Vaas and the fanatic asshole were in a fucking gun fight and I was stuck hiding in a tree like a _useless god-damned fucking pussy_.

  
It was like a switch was flipped, just like before. I _had_ to get by the tiger, I _had_ to get to Vaas, I _had_ to protect Vass to protect Riley. There was no _could_ or _would_ and for the first time since I was taking out Hoyt’s men things were simple. I had to complete a set of goals each one depending on the other except there was no Citra pulling my strings, and sure, Vaas had strung me up just as she had but he wasn’t pulling them.

  
He was an asshole that had engineered a maze, protecting Riley was the cheese and I was the fucking rat. I’d act as he wanted me to, but he made it my own _god-damned_ decision to do so.

  
He was an utter _bastard_.

  
I dropped down from the free and ignored the frantic Spanish from overhead as the tiger turned and stared at me for a few beats. One black ear twitched, nostrils flared and pupils dilated, then it surged at me face contorting in a snarl, large teeth and forward paw claws extended.

  
I narrowly dodged aside jumping when something heavy thunked into the tree near me. I looked and was surprised to see a hunting knife. I grabbed it and turned just after the thing had pounced. Hot fur, heavy muscles and stripes of burning agony cut across my psyche, but even with that I’d surged forward toward the gaping jaws throwing my hands forward and clutching the knife, using the strength of both arms to drive the blade into the chest of the large feline even as its weight barreled into me and sent me backward.

  
The snarl cut off and suddenly, everything was quite. Seconds ticked then more distant bullet fire sounded. I pushed and shoved the tiger off me, ripping the blade free and not registering the hot liquid spurting from the wound above me as I wriggled free, hissing as I felt claws catching at the skin of my back but ignoring it.

  
Later. I’d deal with it later.

  
I heard someone swearing breathlessly in Spanish but I didn’t really have time for Carlos, instead I surged into the trees. Adrenaline was fueling me, I knew that, I didn’t have long until the pain of my injuries would flood back.  
Weirdly even feeling my own pulse in my eardrums, everything was in sharp relief and I felt numb to the complexities of my situation.

  
I’d killed the tiger. Next goal.

  
It was simple, it was easy like a game; I liked that. I liked letting everything else drop by the wayside and focusing only on the moment and the goal I had to achieve. It was fucked up, and I knew from experience I was going to pay for it later, but the moment I came upon the bandits attacking Vaas the sense of accomplishment and triumph as I slaughtered them, first with the hunting knife then the various guns I picked up was intoxicating and I knew with a sense of resigned internal clarity that I was probably as fucked up as the Mohawk totting sociopath I was trying to protect.

_well...fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> There are really not enough fics in this fandom. Also, I may have posted this incorrectly due to inexperience or stupidity.
> 
> Also I'm aware there are grammer/spelling mistakes, but as this is a first draft I'll go back and fix it later.


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